Teachings at Mirror Lake Chan Monastery on Mount Lu

In the summer of the Jia Chen year, the new abbot's hall was completed, and the assembly requested the abbot to ascend the seat. "When the Flower Treasury is opened wide, all realms of the universe are fully revealed. On a single blade of grass, a pure monastery stands—vast and boundless, yet not external. Within a single speck of dust, a Buddha-land exists—serene and empty, yet not internal. Here, Śākyamuni and Vimalakīrti could each display their spiritual powers. Some, like the Buddha at Magadha, remained silent in his chamber, causing countless gods and humans to stir in confusion. Others, like Vimalakīrti at Vaiśālī, closed his mouth, yet together with thirty-two great beings, he exhausted all principles. All claimed to illuminate the ancestral vision and spread glorious renown. But if we examine it closely, it is like waves churning without wind. How can it compare to Mirror Lake today, where a thatched hut is newly opened and the great seat faces the courtyard? Without deliberate effort, the grass bends and the wind blows naturally. Without arranging four vertically and three horizontally, the channel is already formed and the water flows. Setting aside the expansive family tradition and the towering, magnificent enterprise, after all, how shall we speak the phrase for entering the room and dwelling in peace?" He lifted his staff and struck it once, saying: "All mountains bow in reverence; every river flows to the sea."

The master ascended the seat. A monk asked: "The drum of Heshan and the ball of Xuefeng need not be brought out. Please, Master, display your own banner and spear." The master immediately struck him. The monk shouted. The master covered his ears. The monk was silent. The master struck again.

Another asked: "Face to face, please speak quickly." The master said: "The assembly sees your flaw." The monk shouted. The master said: "A double case."

Then he said: "Before Śākyamuni appeared in the world, Vulture Peak had its own style. When Bodhidharma came from the West, Shaolin had no secret formula. Where there is no secret formula, be careful not to grasp at it. When there is a style, how can it be buried? Thus, the white ox in the open field pays no heed to the spiritual sprout; the colorful phoenix in the crimson sky casts off the golden net entirely. Only when faith cuts off the regions of Bing and Fen, and the opportunity meets in the secret room, can it be said: 'On the other side of the primordial sound, night travel has never been allowed; at the gate of the present time, one must arrive early by dawn.' Opportunity after opportunity does not sink into the sea of poison; move after move cuts off the many streams. Let the bustling market of red dust open the great awakening place; let wine shops and tea houses circulate the true eye. Take a blade of grass to pierce the nostrils of Linji and Deshan; hold a single bean to exchange for the eyeballs of Mañjuśrī and Samantabhadra. Even going about it like this is still just setting up the gate. But what about the single phrase within the inner hall—how is it to be communicated?"

After a long pause, he said: "With the patchwork robe pulled over the head, all affairs cease. At this moment, even this mountain monk does not understand."

Taking the seat. "The World-Honored One speaks without speaking—like teeth so tight they hold no wind. Mahakashyapa hears without hearing—ears so open they miss nothing. Missing nothing, Guanyin's feet touch the ground; holding no wind, Samantabhadra's nostrils breathe the sky. Then you spark my insight, I reveal your function—the original scenery shines in every direction, the perfect samadhi unfolds in all places, until lanterns and pillars vie in radiance, clappers and door-bars shout in applause. Now, who is it that bears this directly?" After a long pause, he said: "Even pulling by the hand, you cannot bring it in."

The master ascended the seat. A monk asked: "The mind-moon stands alone and complete, its light engulfs all phenomena. The light does not illuminate objects, and objects do not exist either. When both light and objects are forgotten, what thing is this?" The master said: "When I reach this point, I do not recognize it." The monk pressed: "Can you deceive the assembly's eyes?" The master said: "I will just deceive you, Venerable." The monk said: "If I had not come forward, how could I know the truth?" The master said: "A hundred and eight thousand miles is not far."

Then the master said: "In the realm of Vairocana, everywhere you touch is entirely true. Forests, ponds, and marshes reveal the boundless body; scales, shells, feathers, and fur expound the immeasurable Dharma. Activity and function never leave the fundamental ground; coming and going are entirely within an instant. Even when it reaches the point where every mind is thus, every thought is thus, every particle is thus, every instant is thus—viewed with the true eye, it is still within the bounds of the Dharma realm. So, how would you speak the phrase that transcends the Dharma realm?" After a long pause, he said: "Peony blossoms show the Bodhisattva's face; palm leaves scatter the yaksha's head."

Taking his seat. "Since the chaos began, for thirty years I haven't lacked salt or sauce. Do you, noble ones, wish to see how Great Master Ma gave his whole body for the sake of beings? Mirror Lake today will reveal his face to you."

Suddenly lifting his staff and striking it once, he said: "The face is revealed, strange and ugly. Since the chaos came, his original nature is not preserved at all. Accustomed to sleeping in the official streets, accustomed to drinking the official wine, his belly filled with ignorance, when touched he roars in anger. Stretching out donkey feet, extending hairy hands, he topples the Buddha hall, leaving Śākyamuni nowhere to dwell; raising up the demon palace, Māra bows in unison. I tell you, noble ones, do not wander aimlessly—each of you face south and look at the Northern Dipper."

Taking the seat. "A sky of ten thousand miles without a single cloud, the vast blue heavens fully revealed. Yet for no reason at all, that fellow Shigong drew his bow, set an arrow, and shot upward toward it. He startled the god Śūnyatā so much that he leaped into the depths of the great ocean, which in turn alarmed the eight great dragon kings, each stirring clouds and releasing rain. In an instant, heaven and earth turned dark, rivers and seas surged with waves. At that very moment, Shigong lost his quiver, Śūnyatā forgot his true place, and they both arrived together at Mirror Lake Temple, declaring, 'We have found peace.' The mountain monk could not help but feel joy, and I seal it with this verse: The first day and the eleventh, no need to choose an auspicious date. An inauspicious dream at night, write it down and great fortune will come."

The master ascended the teaching seat. "If the dog has Buddha-nature, the nation prospers; if the dog lacks Buddha-nature, the nation perishes. If you see it in the place of perishing, you return home and sit securely; if you see it in the place of prosperity, you remain stuck halfway. Now tell me, where does the confusion lie?" After a long pause, he said, "White clouds may drift over green peaks, but the bright moon cannot be forced down from the blue sky."

On the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, the master ascended the seat. Someone asked, "What is the birthplace of all Buddhas?" The master said, "A drop of water, a drop of ice."

Someone asked, "The mind is not Buddha, wisdom is not the Way. Please, Master, point directly." The master said, "A mouth is only fit to hang on the wall."

The questioner pressed, "If so, then this student has attained freedom." The master said, "What principle have you seen?" The questioner replied, "I was told not to take the path at the foot of the mountain, and indeed I heard the heartbreaking cry of the ape." The master said, "Idle talk."

Then the master said, "Today is precisely the eighth of the twelfth month, the yellow-faced Gautama is nowhere to be found. Carelessly speaking of awakening upon seeing the morning star, in the dead of night he indulged in idle chatter. Wisdom and delusion are arbitrarily distinguished, heedless of the bystanders blocking the way. You are all heroes and true men—how could you willingly let yourselves be smeared? It's a pity that in the beginning he was let go; I regret not giving him a good kick right on the head."

Suddenly raising his voice, he called out to the assembly, "You sleepy ones, stop rubbing your bleary eyes! If you wish to repay virtue and kindness, there is no better way than first understanding this Dharma."

Ascending the seat. "If we speak of this matter, it is like a person climbing a tree, holding a branch in their mouth, with one phrase cutting off all thought, their hands not grasping the branch, their feet not stepping on it—all phenomena do not rely on one another. Suddenly, if someone asks about the meaning of the Patriarch's coming from the West, not answering would go against their question, and by dawn, one must arrive; answering them would mean losing one's life, not allowing travel by night. Virtuous ones! Xiangyan, the old man, with his three hundred and sixty joints and eighty-four thousand pores, has been completely torn apart by this mountain monk. Is there anyone who can breathe life back into the ancients? If there is, I must ask you: In the Heaven of Neither Perception nor Non-Perception, how many beings retreat from their positions?"

The master ascended the seat. A monk asked, "This student comes straight to the point. Please, Master, show me your true face." The master said, "Ah-yeh-yeh! Ah-yeh-yeh!" The monk pressed, "Is that so? Is that so?" The master replied, "Now tell me, have we met or not?" The monk shouted. The master struck him and said, "Already fallen into the second level."

Then he said, "If someone recognizes the mind, they've already fallen into the second view. Pan Lang rode his donkey backward, afraid to see the animal's face. If you wish to follow the ancient track, Mirror Lake offers a skillful means."

Suddenly he struck the ground with his staff and said, "Ten thousand years the river flows, unaware of spring; With one split, Mount Hua divides into two halves."

He ascended the seat. "The ultimate has gone, to the point where mountains, rivers, and the great earth have not the slightest fault. Yet you all cannot sit here. If you sit here, you are precisely dead men on level ground. So how can this fault be avoided?" Suddenly raising his staff, he said, "Master Yunmen has come, saying that Guanyin Bodhisattva took money to buy a sesame cake, but when she put it down, it turned out to be a steamed bun. Venerable ones! Do you wish to know where Master Yunmen stands?" Then he threw down his staff, saying, "Letting go and returning home, no one recognizes; utterly without a single thing to offer in the hall."

The master ascended the seat. "Since this is the Buddha Hall, why is there dust? Hah! Another speck." He then instructed the attendant to strike the drum and summon everyone to bring the brooms and dustpans of Hanshan and Shide. "If you use them well, you may sweep from before the world was born, clearing away the dust of external sentient beings and the dust of Buddhas and patriarchs, making everything utterly pure. Still, at this very moment, who, after all, is the master?" Suddenly raising his voice, he called to the attendant: "Put away the tools. Return to the hall for tea."

The master ascended the seat. A question was asked: "Manjushri is the teacher of the seven Buddhas. Why could he not rouse the woman from samadhi?" The master said: "When it's cold, the whole world is cold." The questioner continued: "Why could the novice monk, who is only a first-stage bodhisattva, succeed in rousing her?" The master said: "When it's hot, the whole world is hot." The questioner pressed: "Ultimately, in whose hands does the handle lie?" The master said: "With such understanding, you deserve a beating." The monk hesitated to respond, and the master immediately struck him.

Another question: "What is the meaning of the Patriarch's coming from the West?" The master said: "It is not the cypress tree in the courtyard." The questioner continued: "Zhaozhou said, 'The cypress tree in the courtyard.' What about that?" The master said: "There's no need to point out the grass and trees."

Then the master said: "On the summit of Yu Peak, the scenery is vivid and bright. When the sun rises, the lake shimmers with light; when the clouds part, the mountains appear lush and green. The wind passes through the tall trees, clearly revealing the seal of the mind; the spring flows down the secluded cliffs, uniquely exposing the subtle workings. Everywhere there are openings and passages, each point is layered a hundredfold, a thousandfold. If you simply accept it like this, from a monk's perspective, it is not yet worthy of admiration. O fellow meditators! What if the alms bowl and staff leap up to the heavens, collide with the cliffs of Qian Ridge and shatter into pieces—how would you discuss this then?"

He struck his staff once and said: "Do not travel by night while boldly holding a torch; you must stand right on the path and show it to others."

Ascending the seat. "One leaf, one Shakyamuni; one speck of dust, one Buddha-land. If you awaken in such a way, the straight path becomes crooked. A swift hawk does not strike a dead rabbit; a fierce tiger would never eat tamed meat. If you wish to be completely in accord, at Mirror Lake's gate, it is fitting to offer you a slap."

He ascended the seat. A monk asked, "When Zhaozhou tested the two abbots, both raised a fist. Why did he approve of one but not the other?" The master said, "Be careful not to say the tongue is in Zhaozhou's mouth." The monk pressed, "Without profound intent, how can one test the right moment?" The master said, "What is the right moment?" The monk shouted. The master said, "Wrong, wrong."

Another asked, "Before Niu Tou met the Fourth Patriarch, how was it?" The master said, "Rich, yet complaining that a thousand mouths are too few." The monk asked, "After meeting, how was it?" The master said, "Poor, yet resenting that one body is too many."

Then the master said, "Heaven cannot cover it, earth cannot bear it. On this lump of red flesh, the circle embraces the ten directions. At the tip of every blade of grass, it moves freely without obstruction. Śākyamuni and Maitreya can only gaze upon its light, while the white ox and the black slave know how to uphold it. If Mirror Lake's decree is carried out, Mount Sumeru must be utterly shattered."

Ascending the seat. A monk asked: "When the World-Honored One expounded the Lotus Sutra, why did five thousand withdraw from the assembly?" The master said: "You should take the beating for them." The monk was silent. The master then struck him and said: "Words do not travel in vain."

Then he said: "Going out, you meet Maitreya; entering, you see Śākyamuni. If you do not wield the sword, the fisherman nests in the tree. Going out, whom do you meet? Entering, what do you see? He has no land; where do you encounter him? The ancients, for a time, established teachings only to restore the family and the nation. Mirror Lake, however, is specially guarded against, mostly to prevent usurpation. If you understand through the ancients' words, though Chang'an is fine, it is not a place to dwell long. If you understand through Mirror Lake's words, you may race horses atop Mount Sumeru or wrestle in the depths of the great ocean, and still be a free-roaming monk. Nevertheless, after all, how much distance is there between ancient and present times?"

After a long pause, he said: "Though there are words for hiding in the Big Dipper, who knows the message that transcends the crowd?"

On New Year's Eve, the master ascended the seat. "The north wind has blown for days, the mountain peaks are bitterly cold. Snow buries the deep ravines, ice locks the hidden streams. In every direction, all traces of people are cut off; throughout the thousand forests, not a single bird flies. Moreover, the year is ending, the season changing, time shifting. Here in Mirror Lake Monastery, our way is simple and plain. We eat our fill of coarse rice, swallow cold pickled vegetables. At night we sleep by the heated floor; by day we sit in the sheltered sun. How could we have the idle heart to cook an ox with you all to bid farewell to the year, or burn paper to drive out the old? Yet, if someone were to step forward and say, 'Why is Mirror Lake so pitifully poor and cold?' I would simply tell him: 'Once the snow melts away, spring will naturally arrive.'"